Globotrash

So I was in a café in Berlin, drinking an Americano, reading in Le Monde (en français) about the indiscretions of the Italian prime minister and I had an epiphantic flash-view of myself from the outside. I realized I have never been so fucking Eurotrash in my life. Putting it in words like that makes me feel like I’ve just rolled out of a later William Gibson novel. That’s me: a post-national. An upper-middle-class geekling having achieved socio-cultural escape velocity. And why not? I’ve always felt out of touch with every scene I’ve rolled into. Might as well roll them all together. Be your own scene, right?